While in this position, aloud call of "Hallo!" "Landlord!" "O-r-s-t-ler!" was heard without.
"Stir yer stumps, old Boniface—a traveller in distress," exclaimed Ike, to Bulliphant, who was asleep on a wooden box behind the bar, and was snoring louder and louder at each succeeding blast.
"Another two-and-sixpence, old free and easy," added Bates.
"This ere's a licensed tavern, and you must be up and doing, or the la' 'll be inter you," gravely remarked the Squire.
By this time the stranger dashed into the bar-room, his face flushed, and his temper, or his offended dignity, or both, in the ascendant, and exclaimed, ferociously, "Is this a tavern! are you all dead! where's the landlord! the hostler! Got any hay—oats!—anything for a gentleman to eat!—any place to sleep!"—when Bulliphant rubbed open his eyes with the knuckle of his fore-finger, gave a sleepy nod, and stumbled towards the door, to provide for his furious guest and his horse.
The stranger walked into the bar-room, unwound two or three gaudy shawls from his neck, took off an overcoat, a surtout-coat, shed a pair of India-rubber travelling-boots, run both of his hands deep into his breeches-pockets, took half a dozen pompous strides across the floor, looking down all the while in abstracted mood at his feet, paraded before a glass, twisted one of the locks of his hair around his fore-finger, and finally brought up with his back to the fire, where he stood, his hands holding apart the skirts of his coat, and his attention fixed upon something on the ceiling.
Turtle measured him with his eyes several times from head to foot; the "Colonel" hitched out of his way and begged his pardon, when, in fact, he was not at all in his way; the Squire was quite overcome at the amount of opposing dignity brought so directly in contact with him; Bates gravely whistled Yankee Doodle, gazing out of the window, and winked over his shoulder at Beagle and Swipes, who winked back again.
Bulliphant returned wide awake. "Any turkeys or chickens?" inquired the stranger.
"All gone to roost," answered Bulliphant, with a grave kind of brevity.
"Take a broiled chicken," said the stranger, giving a heavy hawk, with his hand upon his breast, and spitting half across the floor.